Changing Teams
by J. Rosemary Moss
Summary: Mozzie's perceptive observations cause Neal to rethink the nature of his partnership with Peter. Peter/Neal friendship, pre-slash and a bit of slash. Reference to mild and consensual corporal discipline.
1. Chapter 1

**Changing Teams**

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Mozzie groaned from the couch when Neal turned on extra lights to get ready for work--a long mournful groan that made his displeasure clear.

Neal rolled his eyes. "Would you stop? It's not that early."

"I'll kvetch to my heart's content, thank you," Moz said. "Look at you, running your life according to the FBI's clock. It pains me to see you taking so well to the leash."

"Maybe I like being on a leash," Neal said with a teasing, sultry look.

Moz snorted. "That would be one thing if Kate was holding the other end of it. It's something else when it's that FBI agent."

Neal refused to take the bait. It was a gorgeous, crisp morning, there would be Italian roast coffee waiting on the roof and he and Peter--well, they had never gotten along better. Life was good.

"I thought you liked Peter," he said as he laid out his clothes. "You got on great with him when he was plying you with gin."

"I do like the guy," Mozzie insisted. "I just don't like the way he's got you so well trained. You might as well be fetching his slippers." He paused to shake his head. "If Kate could see you now, she wouldn't recognize you."

Neal had been reaching for his shirt, but he stopped at that. He turned and stared at Moz.

"Don't give me that look," Moz said, sitting up with a shrug. "You're not the same guy you used to be--you know that as well as I do."

"I haven't changed, Moz. I'm just not running frauds any more."

Moz raised his eyebrows. "Will you be going back to the life when that anklet is off?"

"You think that should be my career goal?"

Moz shrugged again. "I don't care if it is or it isn't. You want to walk the straight and narrow, fine. I just don't want to see you as Burke's pet convict forever."

Neal looked away. "That's what bastards like Agent Ruiz call me. Peter doesn't. And he doesn't think of me that way."

"I thought he said he owned you."

"He does own me," Neal said without rancor. "For four years--that was our deal. But he doesn't consider me a pet . . . or, if he does, it's not in a bad way."

Neal paused, trying to figure out how to explain it. "He thinks of me as--I don't know. Sometimes he thinks of me as his partner; sometimes he thinks of me as his kid. It's a little of both, I guess."

"And sometimes he thinks of you as his pet."

"Yeah, but not in a bad way," Neal reminded him.

There was a long moment of silence. "Are you into him?" Moz asked.

The question startled Neal. "What?"

Moz shrugged. "At least that would be an excuse."

"No. I mean--we're closer now. But it's not like that."

It couldn't be like that. Just for starters, Peter wasn't like that. Not as far as Neal knew . . . and he knew everything about Peter. He had stalked Peter during their cat and mouse game just as much as Peter had stalked him.

"Besides," Neal continued, "I'm straight."

Mozzie gave him a look.

"Mostly."

"That's what I thought," Mozzie said, folding his arms over his chest.

"He's more like my Dad; I swear it. And he's got a wife, Moz. The most wonderful wife you can imagine. And I have Kate to think about."

"Who would hardly know you if she was here now."

Neal stared at him, allowing the words to sink into his brain.

Moz must have seen something in his eyes that made him recant--or pretend to. " Ok. I'm sorry. That was harsh."

Neal stared for another moment and then shook his head. "I'm the same guy, Moz. I just switched teams." He paused long enough to glare at his friend. "And I happen to like my new teammates."

~oOo~

Peter cocked his head at Neal, who was sitting in his customary chair on the other side of Peter's desk, bent over mortgage documentation. He did not look happy. Peter knew the kid found mortgage cases excruciatingly dull, but he suspected there was more to his glum look than that.

"You ok, Neal?" he asked.

The kid glanced up at him and shrugged.

"Want to talk about it?" Peter persisted.

Neal flashed him a half smile. "Not really."

Peter frowned. Neal wasn't entitled to privacy--Peter owned his ass, after all. If the ex-con was sitting there mooning over Kate, contemplating his next move to find her, Peter needed to know. He was not about to let Neal break his custody arrangements for that girl.

Yet something warned Peter not to press Neal right now, so he held his peace.

Jones and Cruz walked in just then, and Neal perked up. Suddenly he was his usual happy-go-lucky and inappropriately flirtatious self. But when the pair left, Neal seemed to deflate. He was back to that glum look.

Peter chewed his lip. In an odd way, he felt complimented. Apparently Neal didn't feel as if he had to put on an act for him.

"Would you like to come over tonight?" Peter asked. "Have dinner with El and me?"

Neal glanced up again. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, but then he smiled--and this time the smile reached his eyes. "Yeah, I would."

Peter nodded, not bothering to hide his relief. It was best to keep an eye on him when he was like this.

Besides, Neal seemed to thrive in Peter and El's company. That was counterintuitive--a trendy chick-magnet like Neal shouldn't be hanging out with an old married couple. Nonetheless, Neal was spending a surprising amount of time at Peter's house, often crashing in the guest room in lieu of taking a cab or public transportation back to the city.

Despite himself, Peter was getting used to having the ex-con around. Like it or not, Neal was family now--and that would make things a lot harder if he was stupid enough to break his custody arrangements. So Peter would just have to prevent him from being that stupid.

Neal bent his head back over the desk as both men went back to work. At least half an hour passed before he spoke up again.

"Moz thinks I'm into you," he said, without bothering to look up from the documents.

Peter blinked, thinking he had misheard Neal--but no, he hadn't. He stared for a second, but decided that it was best not to make a big deal out of Haversham's crazy theories.

"Yeah?" Peter asked at last, keeping his voice purposely disinterested.

"Yeah," Neal confirmed.

"Is Haversham jealous?"

Neal looked up, apparently considering that. "Yeah, I think so."

"Jealous of your supposed interest in me, or jealous that you're no longer his, ah, partner in crime?"

Neal managed another smile. "Perceptive question. I think he has a thing for me--but it's more the latter."

Peter took his time about responding. "I like Haversham," he said at last, "and I think the guy is a real friend to you. He'll get over it, Neal."

The kid just shrugged at that, as if Moz and his crazy theories could go to hell for all he cared, and went back to work.

Peter sighed, hoping that wine, dinner and good company would cheer Neal up tonight. Maybe he should be glad that Neal was subdued--that the mischievous light was out of his eyes. But somehow Peter couldn't help but think Neal would be even more trouble like this.

~oOo~

Neal felt better at Peter's house--and, perversely, that made him feel ten times worse. It was so easy to slip into this picket-fence life. Dining and laughing with Peter and Elizabeth, playfully flirting with Elizabeth under Peter's tolerant gaze, treating their house like a second home, obeying Peter . . .

Well, obeying Peter in everything but the details. Peter needed Neal to out-think FBI rules and regulations; that's what made him so valuable as a pet convict. So sometimes he had to disobey Peter on the small stuff in order to obey him in a larger way. Which made perfect sense to Neal, even if Peter didn't always agree.

But what would Kate think if she could see him now? Moz was right; she wouldn't recognize him. The Neal she knew wouldn't be content here. He'd be looking for an angle--looking for a way to pull a fast one over Peter and the whole damn FBI when the time was right. He'd be plotting a way to escape the leash; not gazing adoringly at the man who was holding it.

No one said anything about Neal going home after the meal was over; Peter and Elizabeth seemed to assume he would crash in the guest room. It made little sense to go back to the city at this point. And usually Neal liked crashing here. But tonight . . . tonight his sense of belonging seemed like more proof of Mozzie's words.

Nonetheless, he took his place on the couch: he was on one side, Elizabeth was on the other, and Peter was between them. And there was Satchmo, of course. The dog was sitting in front of Peter with his head in the agent's lap at the moment.

Neal barely paid attention to whatever they were watching. He needed to turn off his brain so he could stop running Mozzie's words over and over in his mind. So he closed his eyes, leaned back against the couch and forced himself to drift off to sleep. Fortunately the big meal he had just eaten, coupled with the wine, made oblivion come easily enough.

He woke up to a gentle nudge from Peter. "Come on, Neal," the agent said. "Time for bed."

Neal nodded and let Peter help him to his feet. Then Peter put a hand on his back and steered him toward the stairs. That touch--part fatherly, part gentlemanly and chivalrous--settled something in Neal's mind.

Elizabeth was already waiting for them in the upstairs hall. She kissed Neal on the cheek and hugged him as she wished him a good night. He returned the hug with enthusiasm and even rested his chin on her head for a long moment, enjoying the softness of her hair. If Peter minded, he didn't say anything. He just gave Neal a friendly shove toward the guestroom when the hug finally ended.

Neal shut the door behind him and changed into a tee-shirt and pair of pajama bottoms--some of the many clothes he kept on hand here. Come to think of it, a good deal of his wardrobe was in this room. He wondered if it really qualified as a 'guestroom' anymore; he had pretty much taken over.

He went into the guest bathroom--which was likewise full of his stuff--and washed up. Then he walked back into his room, leaving the door ajar for Satchmo, and climbed into bed. He didn't go straight back to sleep, however. He was awake now. Awake and waiting.

Peter had a habit of checking up on him whenever he stayed over. The agent was still quite the stalker; he couldn't resist keeping an eye on Neal. He would stick his head into the room as Neal was sleeping--or when he thought Neal was sleeping--and check that everything was ok, just as Neal imagined a Dad would check up on his kid.

So Neal waited until he heard Peter's tread in the hallway. There was something he needed to clear up with his partner.

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Peter checked up on Neal whenever the kid slept over. It was one of the reasons he had grown to like having Neal here--he didn't have to call up the Bureau and request his location. He didn't have to worry that Neal had somehow broken free of the anklet. Instead, he could see Neal for himself. He usually found the kid curled up in bed with Satchmo, sound asleep, or curled up with a book, reading late into the night.

El had pointed out that he was treating Neal like a child by checking up on him, but Neal had never complained. If he was awake, he might shake his head at Peter's stalking habit, as he called it, but it was always in an amused and even affectionate way. Most often he would invite Peter in, and the two of them would sit up and talk for a while.

Tonight Peter found him sitting up in bed, awake, but with no book in hand. The kid seemed to be waiting for him.

"Hey," Peter said. "Can't sleep?"

Neal didn't answer that. He just waved Peter inside. "Can I ask you something?"

Peter nodded as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing him. "What's up?"

"Before I ask this, I want you to promise me that you, ah--well, that you won't feel awkward around me afterwards."

Peter narrowed his eyes. Was Neal blushing? Why was he blushing?

God, was the kid playing him for some reason? Peter knew full well what an actor Neal was. He could blush like that on command. Did he want to cajole something from Peter? Was that what this was about?

"What's with the blush?" Peter demanded.

"I'm not blushing," Neal said, sounding offended.

Peter gave him a look.

Neal rolled his eyes. "Will you promise or not?"

"Why would I feel awkward around you?"

Neal rolled his eyes again, as if the answer should be obvious. Comprehension dawned on Peter.

"Oh," Peter said. "Is this about Haversham's crazy idea?"

"Sort of--and what makes you think his idea is crazy?" Neal asked, widening those blue eyes of his. "You don't think I have a mild crush on you?"

"I think you have a mild crush on everything with a pulse," Peter retorted.

That drew a smile from the kid. "True," he owned. "But I might have more than a mild crush on you."

"It won't go anywhere. I'm not you're type."

Neal's eyebrows shot up. He leaned forward a little, closer to Peter. "You don't think I can be flexible when it comes to the gender of my crushes?"

"Oh, I can believe that you're flexible about gender," Peter said. "But not flexible about my suits or my love of deviled ham."

Neal grinned. "They're both a trial," he admitted. "But--they're you. And Mozzie's right: I am into you, at least a little. Sometimes I have a crush on everything about you."

Peter snorted. "Guys as pretty as you don't have serious crushes on guys like me."

"I didn't say it was a serious crush--and I'm more than pretty. But that doesn't matter. You're much hotter than those steadfast suits show. Besides, Elizabeth is crazy about you. And she's almost as beautiful as I am."

"Yeah, well, I married up."

"Yeah, but if Elizabeth is allowed to be crazy about you than I am too."

"That's some logic you've got there," Peter commented. "Is this crush of yours what's supposed to make me feel awkward?"

"No, I was pretty sure you could handle that," Neal answered, still smiling. But then his face grew serious. "This is--this does concern Mozzie's ideas. Sometimes he's more perceptive than I like to give him credit for." He paused and took a deep breath. "What happens in four years?"

The question caught Peter off guard--not only the question, but the intensity of Neal's gaze as he asked it. Those blue eyes of his were usually cool and appraising or widened in an adorable lost-puppy look.

Peter cocked his head. "When you're anklet comes off, you mean?"

"Yes. What happens when I'm off the leash?"

"I've never known you to worry about something that far into the future," Peter commented.

The blue eyes snapped in annoyance. "Peter--"

"It will be your call, Neal," Peter said, keeping his voice soft so as not to offend the kid any further. "We're a good team and you've got a genius for solving white collar cases. I hope you decide to stay on as a consultant. We can negotiate a real salary for you--"

"No," Neal interrupted. "I don't mean--I'm not talking about the job. What happens between us?"

"We stay partners, I hope."

Neal rolled his eyes yet again, as if Peter were being deliberately dense.

Peter stared at him. "What does this have to do with Haversham's crazy ideas?"

The kid sighed. "Moz thinks--well, not only does he think I have a crush on you. He thinks I like the leash. He said I should be fetching your slippers."

Neal was watching Peter closely as he spoke, as if he was already preparing to be defensive about Peter's reaction.

Peter met his gaze and held it, knowing he would have to be careful about how he answered. "Are you afraid you do like the leash? That you won't want to be off of it four years from now? Is that it?"

"Yes. Birds can get attached to their cages, Peter."

"Sometimes," Peter agreed, wondering if he was hearing wounded pride in Neal's voice. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing." He paused, thinking over his words. "Neal, Haversham might be onto something. You respond well to authority figures."

The blue eyes narrowed at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Look," Peter said, "apart from your great escape--which was motivated by a stupid romantic gesture--you were a model prisoner. No behavior problems at all."

"It wasn't stupid," Neal insisted. "Not if Kate's the one."

Peter tapped his fingers on his leg, annoyed. "That's not the point."

"I know," Neal said. He paused and flashed Peter a half-hearted smile that was almost apologetic. "Sorry--go back to what you were saying."

"You respond well to my authority too," Peter explained. "I could have lived without you stealing that portrait--"

"That was for a good cause."

"--or lying about that Interpol agent--"

"Ok, that one was all my fault."

"--and I could live without you taking some of the crazy risks you think are necessary when you're under cover," Peter continued, ignoring the interruptions. "But overall, you've done very well. So maybe the leash is good for you."

Neal sighed and slumped his shoulders. "I'm not good with all authority figures. In prison it was just--I knew my life would be easier if all the guards and my fellow inmates were protective of me."

"So you were playing them?"

"Not always--but some of the time, yeah. I had to, Peter. It kept me safe."

"I understand that. And, under the circumstances, I'm glad that lost-puppy look worked for you." Peter took his time about asking the next question. "Have you been playing me this whole time? Are you just looking for the right moment to run?"

Neal shook his head. "No. Moz is right about me: I've gotten used to you holding the leash. I mean, if Kate was--well, I'd think about cutting loose for Kate. But not for any other reason."

Peter considered that. That was probably about as honest an answer as he could expect from Neal. And Peter was almost gratified that Neal had said 'might' and 'think about'--as if running away for Kate's sake wasn't a sure thing. Maybe he was making progress with the kid.

"So you're doing ok with the leash," Peter said. "If I can get you to the point where you won't even consider cutting it and running, we'll be all set."

"What about four years from now?"

"What about it?"

Neal folded his hands on top of his blankets. "What if I still want you to hold my leash?"

His voice was entirely innocent; there were no sexual undertones in his question. Except that of course there were. You couldn't talk about leashes without them. Hell, you couldn't talk about owning someone without them. Peter had known that all along--and so had Neal. They'd just chosen to ignore the subtext between them. And it was probably best to keep ignoring it. The subtext didn't have to mean anything in the real world.

Peter shook his head ruefully. "I know I should tell you that you'll have to cowboy up and look after yourself four years from now--but I hate the thought of you without that anklet, Neal. I'm already used to checking up on you whenever I feel like it. I don't want to give that up."

He paused, shaking his head again. "But in four years you'll have served your time and you can tell me to go to hell when I try to keep tabs on you. I'll learn to respect your right to freedom and privacy, if you want them."

"And if I don't?" Neal asked. "I don't want the FBI checking up on me," he added quickly. "I want--I mean, what if I still want you to own me?"

"Then I'll still own you," Peter said, looking him in the eye. "But we'll be on an honor system instead of a tracking system."

Neal smiled suddenly--a teasing smile that Peter always found irresistible. "Will you give me a collar and a safe word?"

It was Peter's turn to roll his eyes. "No," he answered. "I'll just keep setting boundaries to keep you from screwing up your life again--until you tell me you've outgrown them."

"Will you reconsider the collar?" Neal asked with a look of mock disappointment. "Because once the anklet comes off, it won't be the same--"

Peter reached out to give him a playful cuff. Neal ducked and somehow ended up out from under the blankets and a whole lot closer. So close that Peter found himself putting a brotherly arm around the kid.

Neal settled in against him in a way that wasn't quite brotherly, but Peter decided not to complain.

"You know," Neal said, smiling up at him, "I've heard that I'm a lot of trouble."

"Yeah?" Peter asked. "Funny, I've heard that somewhere too."

"Sure you'll still want to put up with me four years from now?"

Peter shrugged. "I've gotten used to being responsible for you."

"Well, if you're willing to put up with me, that must make me more than a pet convict, right?"

Peter tousled his hair. "You and Satchmo can fight it out for alpha-pet."

Neal laughed and pushed himself away. "You better get back to Elizabeth."

"Yeah," Peter agreed as he stood up. "You ok now?"

"No," Neal answered, still smiling a little. "But I'm better. Good night, Peter."

~oOo~

Neal stayed awake a long while after Peter left the room. He was stretched out on the bed, arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Satchmo was lying at his side. Peter generally locked Satch out of the master bedroom at night, so the dog was always glad when Neal stayed over.

Neal moved one hand and scratched Satch behind the ears. His mind was elsewhere, though. He was still thinking over this picket-fence existence.

On the surface, it was quite simple. Peter and Elizabeth had no children. Neal had little in the way of real family; it wouldn't be hard to become the unofficial son of the household. Hell, he was already playing that part. Peter generally treated him as if he were a brilliant but exasperating teenager.

And that was fine; Neal could play the part of Peter's son. A son who was a handful, perhaps, but a son who still belonged. And he could play the part of Peter's younger brother too--that was almost the same role. It just gave Neal a better excuse to yank Peter's chain.

Those weren't the only two roles available, though. Elizabeth jokingly referred to Neal as her competition. There was truth to that--Peter had stalked both of them, after all. Nothing needed to come of that truth. Probably nothing should. Peter had Elizabeth. And there was Kate. And Peter was straight--probably unbearably so. And Neal was straight too. More or less.

Neal shook his head as he continued to scratch Satchmo. He should just enjoy the sexual subtext to his conversations with Peter without testing the boundaries, the same way he enjoyed his harmless flirtations with Elizabeth. Boundaries were a good thing--at least when Peter was setting them.

He sighed. Unfortunately, he had never been good at leaving boundaries untested.

_To be continued . . ._


	3. Chapter 3

Changing Teams, Part Three

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Neal woke up to a dog's tongue licking his face. "I'm awake, Satch," he said, pushing the dog away. "I'll feed you in a few minutes, ok boy?"

Satchmo whined, but settled back down on the bed. Neal sat up, scratching behind the dog's ears as he did so.

He loved waking in up Peter's house--nothing could be further from the prison he'd woken up in for four years. In fact, he loved waking up here even more than waking up at June's. For some reason he couldn't quite articulate, Peter's house felt more like home.

He glanced at the clock. It was early yet--he had about an hour and a half before he'd have to leave with Peter for the job. Unless . . . unless he could convince a certain overworked FBI agent that both of them deserved a day off. Today was Friday; if no emergency called them in, they could have a three day weekend. A three-day weekend Neal intended to spend at chez Burke.

Neal yawned and stretched, wondering how to coax Peter out of bed and out of his room without waking up Elizabeth. Peter solved that for him, however. Neal heard his tread in the hall.

Neal grinned. The guy must be coming to wake him up--as if Neal couldn't be trusted to set an alarm clock. Not that he had set an alarm clock, but still . . .

"Morning, Peter," he called out as the agent came closer. "Come on in."

"Hey," Peter said, standing in the doorway. "You ok with cereal for breakfast?"

"I'll make us a real breakfast--on one condition."

Peter cocked his head.

"Let's take today off. It's been quiet and I know you have lots of personal time."

"No, Neal. We have plenty of work to do--"

"We've been pouring over old files. That can wait till Monday. Please, Peter?"

The agent rolled his eyes. "Don't flash those baby-blues at me. I'm not the one with a crush."

Neal pretended to be devastated as he pushed himself to his feet and took a step toward his captor. "I confess my feelings to you--and you turn them against me?"

Satchmo whined again, presumably from the sudden lack of attention.

"Neal," Peter said, his eyes holding a warning, "stop giving me that wounded puppy-dog look. I know you're faking it. And I'm immune to it anyway."

"One day, Peter," Neal pleaded. "One day off--we've earned it. If you'll just give us today, I'll even forgive you for throwing my crush back in my face."

"Neal--"

"Please . . ."

Peter rolled his eyes again. "Ok, I'll call Hughes. But you better make a damn good breakfast."

"I will," Neal promised as he drew Peter into a bear hug and started planting kisses on the agent's cheek.

"Stop that! I thought this was only a mild crush," Peter complained, half-heartedly pushing him away.

"More than mild, but less than serious," Neal reminded him, kissing his cheek yet again.

Satchmo didn't help matters. Suddenly he was off the bed and jumping at Peter, trying to get his own share of kisses. Neal laughed, but Peter glared at both of them.

"Sit, Satch!" Peter ordered. Then he turned back to Neal. "And you--"

"I'll get downstairs to the kitchen," Neal promised, still laughing as he released the agent.

Peter moved out of his way and even gave him a smack on the ass to help him out the door. Neal almost stopped in his tracks, astonished, but he forced himself to keep moving. He knew Peter too well. The guy would try to pass that smack off as either fatherly or as some kind of hetero-football-buddy-thing.

Still, Neal was smiling when he reached the kitchen. Seems like he wasn't the only one with a crush.

But what would Elizabeth think? Neal was pretty sure she'd allow some serious flirting between himself and her husband--but he wouldn't blame her for drawing the line there. He paused as he reached the kitchen counter, frowning. However eager he was to test his boundaries with Peter, he would never do so at Elizabeth's expense.

He bit his lip, realizing he'd have to acknowledge Elizabeth's right to set some boundaries of her own. Still, what kind of conman was he if he couldn't sweet-talk her into stretching them?

He held onto that thought as he got to work on omelets for three. It was a long while before he realized that Kate hadn't crossed his mind as part of the equation.

~oOo~

Elizabeth didn't grudge Peter and Neal their day off. On the contrary, she was thrilled that Peter was taking the time--and she was damned impressed that Neal had talked him into it. She smiled to herself as she worked, knowing her husband wasn't as impervious to Neal's baby blues as he pretended to be.

She had a good idea of what the guys were up to, especially considering the drizzling rain that lent a grey cast to the day, nixing most outdoor activities. When she finally arrived home, she proved to be right on the money. The Xbox, PlayStation and Wii were all out. Elizabeth bit back a smile as she hung up her coat: no matter how old they got, they were still just a couple of boys.

Peter was sitting on the couch with the controller to the Xbox. Neal was sitting on the floor, with one arm resting on Peter's lap, leaning up against him. Both men had their eyes trained on the flat-screen as they argued about what to do next. They paused in their bickering to call out greetings to her, but went straight back to it.

Elizabeth peered at the screen. They were playing _Dragon Age_: a single player, role-playing type game with lots of storyline choices. That explained the argument. She shook her head, embarrassed to know so much. Maybe she was just as much a kid at heart--and just as much a geek--as her two boys.

She strolled behind the couch and kissed Peter on top of the head. Then she reached over to tousle Neal's hair.

Neal turned and grinned up at her. "We held up dinner for you. It's cooking now. I'll get--"

Elizabeth laughed. "Keep playing; I'll take care of it."

She strolled into the kitchen and checked on the food. It was some kind of chicken casserole, and it smelled delicious. Satisfied, she closed the oven and collected the plates necessary to set the table.

The argument was still going on when she walked into the dining room. Peter had his right arm raised now, controller in hand to keep it out of Neal's reach. Neal, meanwhile, was trying to grab hold of it, leaning over Peter's lap in the process.

"It's my turn, Peter! Give it to me--ow!"

The 'ow' was in deference to the solid smack Peter had just delivered to the boy's backside. Undeterred, Neal kept reaching for the controller.

"What, you're spanking me now?" he asked, laughing as he made another grab for the device.

"Why not?" Peter retorted, using his free hand to smack him again. "I own your ass, remember?"

"Yeah, " Neal said as he finally managed to pull Peter's right arm down. "And I think I was crazy enough to admit that I like it that way."

Peter grinned as he released the controller into Neal's custody. Neal sank back onto the floor, one arm resting on Peter's lap again as he took over the game. "Ok, enough of this," he said, his attention back on the flat screen. "I'm bringing us to the Circle Tower to deal with the demons."

Elizabeth kept watching, mesmerized, as Peter refocused on the game, absently ruffling Neal's hair as he did so. She ought to be jealous, she told herself. These two were as comfortable with each other as long-time lovers. And they were treating each other as long-time lovers.

But she wasn't jealous. She had to be honest enough to admit that to herself. Somehow there was a rightness about having Neal here, about seeing him so casually intimate with her husband. And somehow she didn't feel threatened by that intimacy. Neal just seemed to fit here.

Maybe she'd just grown used to having Caffrey for 'competition.' Or maybe she'd watched too much _Big Love_. Either way, she didn't mind the idea of sharing her husband with the ex-con.

Nonetheless, she had a few conditions to place on that sharing. Neal was going to balk at them, but he'd have to--well, he'd have to cowboy up. And she might as well set him straight now, while her husband was still deluding himself that he had a platonic relationship with the kid.

"Neal," she called out sweetly, "would you help me in the kitchen for a moment?"

__

To be continued . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**__**

Changing Teams, Part Four

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Neal felt obliged to jump to obey Elizabeth, but he paused the game and took the controller with him. Not that Peter couldn't switch controllers, but Neal hoped the man wouldn't sink that low.

Elizabeth took his arm as they walked into the kitchen, only releasing him to make sure the door closed behind them. Neal raised his eyebrows at that as he leaned back against the counter.

"Ah, what's wrong?" he asked.

She flashed him an uncertain smile. "I think--well, I think I should be asking what your intentions are with Peter."

He gave her his most charming smile. "To stay in his good graces, of course."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "That's why you're flirting with him?"

"Well, it helps," Neal admitted. "And it's harmless--half the time I'm not even sure Peter realizes we're flirting. He thinks of me as a kid."

"Neal, stop playing me," Elizabeth said softly. "You know it's not harmless flirting . . . and you know it won't stay innocent for long."

Neal had a host of reassurances at his disposal, but after a long look into Elizabeth's eyes he decided against all of them. Elizabeth deserved his honesty. Or at least as much honesty as he knew how to give.

"I'm not trying to seduce him," he told her, making sure to meet and hold her gaze. "I'm trying--I guess I'm trying to find out where I stand with him. To see what's possible between us. I don't believe he'll ever cheat on you, though. Not if he's the man I think he is."

She seemed to consider that. "So, you're testing him?"

"Yeah, in part," Neal admitted. "I have a crush on him too, though. He knows that--he just doesn't take it seriously. I meant what I said: he thinks of me as a kid."

Elizabeth smiled at him--a warm, genuine smile that was tinged with exasperation--and took both of his hands in her own. Or tried to take both of his hands in her own. She had to take away the Xbox controller first and set it on the counter.

"Neal," she said, both of his hands finally in hers, "I don't mind sharing Peter with you."

For another long moment, Neal just stared at her. "I think I might be imagining things. I thought you just said that you don't mind sharing Peter with me."

"You're not imagining things."

Neal felt his mouth drop open. He had no idea how much time passed before he managed to close it again. "Um, when you say share--"

She squeezed his hands, still smiling. "I mean you and Peter can become involved--and yes, that means you can sleep together."

Neal's mouth dropped open again. He gave himself some credit though. It only took a few seconds to close it this time. But that few seconds were filled by a vision of Peter running his hands all over Neal's body, massaging him, stroking him . . .

He gave himself a mental shake, reminding himself that he was straight. (Ok, mostly straight.) And that Peter was straight. Straight and married. (Ok, he was married to a marvelous woman who didn't mind sharing him. And for a straight guy, he sure seemed to have a thing for Neal's ass today.)

"Um--have you told Peter this?" Neal asked, finding his voice.

"Not yet," Elizabeth answered, "but I will. Soon. I just--I just wanted to talk to you about my conditions first."

Conditions. That made sense--in fact, it was the one thing that made sense in this whole crazy idea. "What kind of conditions?"

"First, you have to remember that I had him first."

Neal grinned at her tone, which was both teasing and strict. "Yes Ma'am."

"Second," she continued, "you have to promise me to keep this from the FBI. I can only imagine what kind of trouble--"

"Believe me, this is none of the Bureau's business," Neal assured her. He could just imagine the look on Hughes' face . . . "But that doesn't matter," he added, "because Peter will never agree to this."

"He will, Neal. It may take some time, but--" she broke off, letting his hands drop, and seemed to weigh her words. "You didn't see the two of you just now. I should have been crazy with jealousy, but you seemed so right with each other."

Neal cupped her face with his hands. "I understand why you're not jealous. Even if Peter--well, no matter what happens, I'm not a threat to your marriage."

"I know," she said, still smiling as she placed her hands over his. Then she sighed. "But even though I'm willing to share Peter with you, he won't be willing to share you, Neal."

Neal swallowed. "Kate. I'd have to give up Kate."

Elizabeth nodded.

"I can't stop looking for her. Even if--even if we were over, I can't leave her on her own until she's safe."

Elizabeth stepped closer and Neal found himself putting his arms around her. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Did you ever think," she whispered, "that Kate might be able to take care of herself?"

The door opened just then and Peter stepped into the kitchen before Neal could answer. There was no anger or suspicion in the agent's eyes, despite the fact that Neal was holding his wife. There was only warm concern.

"You two ok?" Peter asked.

Neal slid into a polished grin. "We're fine--just having a moment."

Peter's eyes swept from one of them to the other. Neal knew he wasn't fooled, but at length he shrugged. Apparently he decided that whatever was going on, it was best left in Elizabeth's hands.

"Ok," Peter said, walking over to them. "I'm going to take Satchmo for a quick walk before dinner."

Neal broke apart from Elizabeth so that Peter could kiss his wife. But when Peter was done, Neal gave him what he hoped was an irresistible lost-puppy look. "None for me?"

That didn't earn him a kiss; the agent reached out and tousled Neal's hair instead. But he was smiling as he did so. Smiling and rolling his eyes, but still . . .

Elizabeth turned to Neal with a look of triumph as Peter left the kitchen, calling Satch to him. "You see?"

"Yeah, but that was fatherly," Neal said, shaking his head, "not romantic."

El leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry--he can't fight it forever."

Neal frowned, wondering if Elizabeth was fully acquainted with her husband's willpower.

~oOo~

The Xbox occupied Peter and Neal long after dinner and long after Elizabeth had gone up to bed--but when Neal drifted off with his head on Peter's shoulder, the agent knew it was time to call it a night. He saved the game, put down the controller and gave Neal a little shake.

"Time to go upstairs," he said.

Neal gave an incoherent moan and snuggled up against him.

"Come on, Neal," Peter prodded, shaking him again.

The kid shook his head. "Not yet. I'm comfortable."

"Neal--"

"A few more minutes?"

Peter sighed. "Ok. A few more minutes."

Neal nodded as he drew his legs up on the couch. Then he shifted until his head was almost on Peter's lap. Ok, it was on Peter's lap. Peter rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop himself from running his fingers through Neal's hair, toying with the waves and curls. Neal all but purred.

More than a few minutes passed. It was almost half an hour before Peter shook Neal again. "Come on, Caffrey. Up on your feet."

Neal rolled over and looked up at Peter with an angelic smile. "When Elizabeth falls asleep downstairs, you always carry her up to bed."

"You want to be carried?"

He nodded.

Peter moved the kid's head out of the way as he stood up. Then he reached down to pick him up--and promptly heaved him over his shoulder.

Neal laughed. "Bastard," he said as Peter headed for the stairs.

Peter responded with several smacks to his ass. Neal managed to give him a few in return before Peter dumped him unceremoniously on the guest bed.

The kid was still laughing as he landed on his back. "If I'd been more awake, I would've seen that coming."

Peter nodded as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, you're off your game. You better get some sleep."

"Ok. What are we up to tomorrow?"

"Staying over for the weekend?"

"Yeah. I mean, if that's ok."

Peter stared down at him, knowing there was no way to disguise the satisfaction and possessiveness in his eyes. "Yeah, it's ok. Neal, why don't you move in here?"

He hadn't meant to say that. He shouldn't have said it. It was healthier for the kid to have a place of his own--despite the fact that Peter wanted to keep as close an eye on him as possible.

Neal cocked his head at him. "If you had brought me home that first day instead of leaving me in that roach motel, I would be living here."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I should have seen that coming. You're still angry at that, huh?"

He grinned. "Not angry--but I'm not over it. I'm going to hold it over your head forever."

"I should have brought you home," Peter admitted, "even though I had good reasons to leave you there."

"I know--I know. You didn't want Elizabeth getting attached to me, since I could've gone straight back to prison. You didn't want to get more attached to me than you already were. And you didn't think it was appropriate . . ."

"Enough," Peter said, giving him a look. "If it's any consolation, I had to steel myself to tell you to cowboy up when I left you there. And those puppy-dog eyes of yours haunted me all the way home."

Neal was still smiling--apparently he wasn't too traumatized by the couple of hours he had spent in that motel. He pushed himself up to a seated position and crossed his legs.

"I'd like to live here," he said. "Most of the time. I'll keep my place at June's though, at least for now. That way we can have some space when I infuriate you."

"And vice-versa," Peter said, nodding.

"But if this works out, I'll see if June will let Mozzie have my rooms. That way I can still retreat there when necessary." Neal paused, considering. "Of course, you might need this room for a child eventually," he continued, his voice cautious.

"From your mouth to God's ear," Peter returned. "There's still another bedroom, so we're ok even if Elizabeth and I conceive or adopt or--well, whatever."

"Right. But you won't be satisfied with just one kid."

Peter shrugged. "The basement is finished. We could turn that into a real apartment for you. As the oldest kid, you deserve the most space," he teased.

Neal grinned, but Peter caught a flash of something in his eyes--some emotion that Peter couldn't quite identify. "Is that how you think of me?" he asked. "As your kid?"

"Sometimes."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "And other times? What else am I? Your property?"

He shrugged. "For four years--anything more will be voluntary on your part. I thought you were ok with that?"

"I am. More than ok. I like my leash . . . and my owner."

The last time Neal raised this subject--was it only last night?--he had managed to make it sound entirely innocent. This time he didn't bother. Those blue eyes of his were brimming with suggestions of just what Peter's ownership should entail . . . and Peter couldn't stop himself from imagining the possibilities.

"Neal," he began, his voice tight.

But Neal interrupted him. "Never mind me. It's just that--well, for a father figure, you certainly enjoy flirting with me."

Peter smiled at that, knowing he was caught. "Yeah--too much. It must be those blue eyes. But it can't go further than that. And I'll be more careful in the future."

"Do you--do you want to rescind your invitation? About me moving in, I mean?"

"Oh no. I want to keep as close an eye on you as possible."

"Good. I want to live here. And don't worry," he added. "I'll behave. I can play the part of your son, if you're sure that's all you want me to be."

Peter rolled his eyes. He couldn't imagine getting into a twisted conversation like this with anyone else in the world. No one but this blue-eyed conman could tie him into knots like this. Even Elizabeth never had; they had always known where they stood with each other.

"It can't be anything more, Neal," he managed. "I'm a married man. I love my wife. I'm not about to have something on the side with you."

"What if Elizabeth gave you permission?"

For a long moment, Peter just stared at the kid, wondering if he had heard him right. But there was no mistake.

"It wouldn't matter, Neal," he said at last. "That's not the way things work."

Neal cocked his head. "I see. It's against the rules, huh? The rules you tried to explain to me when you got your first look at June's." He paused to smile. "You were so angry. And so jealous. You said you couldn't live in a place like June's because your salary equaled certain things in the real world. Anything beyond that apparently breaks the rules."

"I was angry because living in a place like June's is the sort of thing that gets you in trouble!" Peter retorted. "It's these something for nothing schemes that--"

"You can stop now. I remember the rest of the lecture."

Peter bit back a retort. "Did Elizabeth give you permission?" he asked instead. "Is that what started this conversation?"

Peter knew his wife and just how open-minded she could be. Too open-minded--a flaw she shared with Neal. No wonder the two of them got on so well.

The kid had the grace to look chagrinned. "Yeah," he admitted. "But before you say anything, let me explain something."

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "Go on."

"You're right about me," Neal said softly. "I'm always expecting something for nothing. I think I'm entitled to everything I want, whether I work for it or not. But you're just as bad--only in the opposite direction."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Peter, you expect too little. You live according to some blue-collar rules that say if you work hard you'll end up with a nice wife, a couple of kids and a house with a white-picket fence. And you don't think you're entitled to anything more. In fact, you think it's wrong to want anything more--or anything different."

He paused again, this time to smile. "That's all good, Peter. The wife, the kids, the picket fence . . . But you make your world too small. There's no reason you can't have room for me."

"There is room for you," Peter said slowly. "You're part of this family, Neal."

"Yeah, as your son or your little brother or something equally innocuous. I get it." He sighed and shook his head. "Ok, Peter. I said I would behave and I will. If you want me to be anything more than a kid or a kid brother, you'll have to make the next move."

"Neal--"

"Don't worry; I'm not holding my breath." He swallowed and then gave Peter a pleading look. "But you're not angry with Elizabeth, are you?"

"That's between me and El," Peter answered, standing up. "But don't worry--you're not a home wrecker. Now get some sleep."

"Ok," he said, looking relieved. But then that relieved look turned sly. "Can I have a kiss goodnight, Daddy?"

Peter glared at him. "Your good behavior lasted for all of thirty seconds."

"That might be a record for me," Neal said, looking impressed with himself.

Peter kept glaring.

The kid painted a contrite expression on his face. "Ok. That was uncalled for--I'll admit that. You should spank me . . . for real this time."

Great. Now Peter would be going to bed with a vision of his hand on Neal's bare ass. He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering why it hadn't all turned gray after dealing with Neal Caffrey for so long. "You're determined to make my life a living hell, aren't you?"

Neal grinned up at him. "Only until you come to your senses."

_To be continued . . ._


	5. Chapter 5

**__**

Changing Teams, Part Five

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Neal got off his bed as soon as Peter left his room. He changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, but after a moment's consideration he discarded the shirt. Peter might look in on him later--thanks to his stalker habit--so the man might as well catch a glimpse of Neal's lean and muscular chest.

He paused for a moment, fighting the urge to eavesdrop on the conversation Peter and Elizabeth must be having. He peered outside his door. The master bedroom light was on, so presumably both Burkes were awake. Neal frowned. Peter wouldn't wait till morning to discuss the whole `permission' issue with his wife.

He sighed. He really shouldn't eavesdrop, but knowing that didn't stop him from creeping down the hall. He drew as close to their door as he dared and listened. They were speaking in loud whispers.

"You spoke to him about this before me!" Peter was saying. "How am I supposed to take that?"

"Peter . . ."

Neal strained his ears as Elizabeth's voice grew even quieter, but he couldn't catch enough of her answer to make sense of it. Which was a shame, because it was apparently long and involved. But at least he could hear Peter's response.

"Yes, I want him."

Neal held his breath. There was no enthusiasm in Peter's voice--it sounded like El had wrenched the confession from him.

"But I'm not about to take advantage of him, El," Peter continued. "And I'm not about to jeopardize our marriage."

"I've been sharing Neal with you for years, Peter. And he's a grown man. You wouldn't be taking advantage of him--"

"He's a mixed up kid!" Peter interrupted, forgetting to whisper. "A kid I can send back to prison. What kind of bastard would I be if I started sleeping with someone I had that much power over?"

Neal remembered suddenly that he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, processing Peter's words.

He'd known that Peter thought of him as a kid. God knows the agent treated him like one. But he hadn't realized, until now, that Peter considered him incapable of making a decision about his own love life.

Neal felt a cold fury seep into him. He wanted to break something--but instead he took a deep breath. He crept back down the hall and then turned around and made plenty of noise as he walked back toward the master bedroom. He wanted to make it seem as if Peter's voice had carried.

He knocked on the door. There were more whispers before Peter answered. The agent was still dressed, Neal noticed.

"What is it, Caffrey?"

Neal looked him in the eye. "Would you put a child in the line of fire?"

Peter cocked his head at him, confused. "What?"

"I've had guns drawn on me for the Bureau. I've had guns fired at me for the Bureau. Would you let a mixed-up kid face that?"

Peter sighed. "Neal--"

"If you think I'm old enough to go undercover for the FBI, Peter, then you should realize that I'm old enough to make up my own mind about sleeping with you."

The agent opened his mouth, but abruptly shut it again.

Neal felt his eyes harden. "If you don't want to start something with me because you're afraid it will hurt your marriage, fine. I'll respect whatever decision you and Elizabeth reach. But don't pretend you have too much power over me."

Neal paused and shook his head. "The worst that can happen between us, Peter, is that things won't work out and we'll both feel bad about it. The worst that can happen to me out in the field is that I'll end up dead."

With that he turned on his heel and stalked back toward his room.

"Neal--" Peter said again, following him.

But Neal slammed his door in the agent's face.

~oOo~

Peter sat at his dining room table, sipping his coffee and pretending to read the paper. In truth, he was amazed that his hands weren't shaking. He had to keep nerving himself up to stay seated, knowing that Neal would walk down the stairs any second.

Unless he meant to sit in his room and sulk all day. Neal was quite capable of that.

Or maybe Neal was just waiting for Peter to leave the house. El was already gone--she wasn't speaking to Peter or Neal at the moment. If Peter left as well, perhaps Neal would come out of hiding.

Peter put down the paper and tapped his fingers on the table. He was so damn tempted to check on Neal--to go upstairs and knock on his door. To break it down if he didn't answer. Well, at least he knew the kid was still up there. No U.S. Marshall had called to report him--and Neal's range was restricted to the house when he stayed at Peter's, since it was outside his normal radius.

Peter took a deep breath and forced himself to keep waiting. He made a genuine effort to banish all thoughts of breaking down Neal's door from his head.

Finally he heard the door open, followed by a happy bark from Satchmo. The dog had been devastated to find himself shut out of Neal's room last night.

Peter took another sip of coffee as Neal greeted the dog. He tried to school his face into a neutral expression as the two of them made their way down the stairs.

Neal paused on the landing. He was still dressed in nothing but a tight-fitting pair of sweats that hung low on his hips. Peter inhaled sharply as he drank in the bare feet, the bare chest--and everything in between.

"Hey," Peter managed.

"Hey," Neal answered, his voice level.

"Are you speaking to me?"

Neal shrugged.

"Come here," Peter said. It was half an order and half a plea.

Neal glided over, taking the chair next to him. He sat on it sideways, so that he was facing Peter.

"Where's Elizabeth?" he asked.

"She went out for the day. She didn't say where. Just so you know, she's as angry with you as she is with me."

Neal smiled a little. "It's because I told you about her permission, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

He gave a melodramatic sigh. "I cracked under pressure--that's what I'll tell her."

"Making me the bad guy?"

"Oh yeah," Neal said. "Sorry, but I'll have to throw you to the wolves."

Peter grinned. "That's ok. I'll take the fall."

Neal grinned back, but then fell silent. He let the silence stretch for a few minutes before finally speaking up again. "This would be a good time to admit I'm right and apologize."

Peter hesitated before answering. "You're only half right, Caffrey," he said, pausing as he leaned down and pulled Neal's leg up onto his lap. Neal looked surprised, but he didn't object.

"You are an adult," Peter continued, putting his hand on Neal's anklet. "But this device means you're also a convict who's given up his full rights as an adult. A convict in the FBI's custody, under my supervision."

Neal looked away, annoyed. "And you think sleeping with me would be like sleeping with a minor in your custody."

"Not quite," Peter said softly, massaging the skin around the anklet. "You're right, Neal. I wouldn't send a minor into a dangerous situation."

Neal met his eyes again. "So where does that leave us?"

"I'm not sure," Peter admitted. But he didn't stop massaging Neal's ankle--a fact that he knew wasn't lost on Neal.

The conman smiled at him. "When did you first realize you wanted me?"

"I wanted you back when I was chasing you. But I didn't know it until you strutted down June's stairs, all full of yourself, not knowing you looked like a cartoon."

Neal laughed. "My classic Rat Pack look isn't cartoonish--you're just a philistine."

"And when did you fall for me?" Peter asked, ignoring the jibe as he raised his eyebrows sardonically. "When Haversham asked you if you were into me? That was what, two days ago?"

Neal took his leg off Peter's lap and leaned toward him. Peter kept still as the conman placed his hands on his face, studying him. Then Neal drew him into a light, teasing kiss.

Their lips brushed against each other for only a few seconds before Neal drew back again. "Moz just pointed out what I should have realized for myself," he whispered.

"And what about Kate?"

"I--I don't know," Neal answered, keeping his hands on Peter's face. "I'm still working on that."

Peter was almost relieved--as much as he wanted Neal to forget Kate, he didn't need any wild promises from the kid. Nonetheless, he took Neal's hands off his face.

"Neal," he said, "even if I were crazy enough to agree to this, I'd still treat you like a child."

"And that's fine," Neal said, "as long as it's because you're a possessive control freak, and not because you think I'm just a confused kid who can't be trusted to make his own romantic choices."

Peter sighed. "And what about all the power I have over you? You know how easy it would be for a control freak like me to abuse it?"

Neal rolled his eyes. "Peter, I'm all but begging you to abuse it. Should I get down on my hands and knees?"

Peter gave him a warning look--but it was too late. The kid was already on his knees, gazing up at Peter with widened blue eyes full of exaggerated adoration.

"I have a confession," Neal told him as he rested his hands on Peter's lap.

"Let me guess. You didn't happen to hear me from down the hall last night. You were eavesdropping on El and me."

Neal treated him to a guilty nod.

Peter sighed as he tousled the kid's hair. "You must really want that spanking."

__

To be continued . . .


	6. Chapter 6

****

Changing Teams, Part Six

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Neal slumped in the passenger's seat and folded his arms across his chest, trying to ignore the pain of sitting down.

"Are you going to sulk the whole ride?" Peter inquired.

"I just might," he answered, favoring the agent with a reproving glare.

"I thought you wanted the spanking."

"I did--and I don't regret it. You have a wicked way with your hand."

The agent grunted. "Then why are you sulking?"

"Because I wanted sex afterwards. Or, if that was too much to ask, I wanted you to massage my ass to make it feel better. And if that was too much, I wanted you to at least hold me."

He paused to let out a melodramatic sigh. "Really, Peter. It would have taken so little effort to make me happy."

"It was a punishment, Neal. Making you happy wasn't my goal."

Neal rolled his eyes. "You are, in many respects, an admirable lord and master. But you still require extensive training." He paused to give Peter a measuring look. "Fortunately, I'm up to the task."

"Lucky me," Peter muttered.

Neal smiled and uncrossed his arms. His sulking had served its purpose, so he relaxed and thought back to Peter's lecture that morning--the lecture he had delivered as he sat on his couch with Neal over his lap. The lecture he had punctuated with sharp smacks to Neal's bared ass.

The gist of the lecture was simple: don't ever, ever eavesdrop on Peter and Elizabeth again. Really, such a simple message shouldn't have required so many smacks.

But it all worked out: somewhere between the lecture and the smacks Peter decided that Neal should move into the basement as soon as possible, to decrease the temptation to eavesdrop. (As if Neal would be remotely tempted to spy on them when he wasn't the subject of their conversation. Of course, he probably was the subject as often as not.)

Neal should be cringing at the thought of a basement apartment, but Peter's basement wasn't half bad. The place had potential.

Better yet, Peter was letting him redecorate. The agent had even acquired Elizabeth's approval for that plan. He'd had to call her and beg forgiveness first, of course. Then Neal got on the phone and blamed Peter for everything. That didn't work, so he ended up begging for forgiveness as well. (Peter wore a satisfied smirk while he listened to Neal's half of that conversation.)

But after all that, Elizabeth agreed to meet them at the home improvement store to help pick out new paint for what would become the bedroom. Peter was willing to foot the bill not only for the paint, but for the furniture and window treatments.

Well, technically, Peter hadn't mentioned window treatments. They probably weren't on his radar, but Neal assumed they were included.

In addition to the decent-sized junk room that was to become his bedroom, there was a workout room, an enormous bathroom and a large room that Peter had intended for a pool table and bar. That dream had ended, but it would suit Neal just fine as a living room.

So a bedroom, living room, bathroom and work-out room. No kitchen, but Neal could live without that. He'd be having most of his meals with the Burkes anyway.

Neal bestowed a glowing smile on Peter, which seemed to make the agent suspicious. "What's that for?" he demanded.

"The vast amount of money you're going to be shelling out for the redecorating."

Peter glanced at him again as he switched lanes. "Yeah, well, I have to take care of my pet convict."

There was a teasing note in his voice, so Neal didn't take offense. "Exactly. I chose the right owner."

"Just remember that no matter how much we spend, the basement won't compare to your rooms at June's."

"It doesn't need to. As much as I love June's, it's not my home." The words were out of his mouth before he could think them over. Neal reddened, realizing how sappy they sounded. "Besides," he added, "I'm not giving up June's place yet."

"I know. But if this works out, I'll have to inform the agency of your change in residence--and change your radius accordingly. You won't be able to roam Manhattan any longer, Neal. Not on your own."

"Yeah, I figured. How are you going to sell Hughes on me moving in with you?"

Peter grinned. "Oh, I can sell him on closer supervision, believe me."

"He won't suspect anything?"

"What should he suspect?" Peter asked as he turned off the highway. "That you and Elizabeth are trying to force me into bed with you?"

Neal considered that. "You're probably right," he conceded. "That won't be his first thought."

"No, it won't."

"So he'll be ok with this?"

"Yeah. He knows I love you, Neal, but he assumes it's a father-son thing. So even if I am crazy enough to sleep with you--and I'm not saying I am--we should be able to keep it under wraps. And we'd have to, because it would look like coercion--"

But Neal had stopped listening. His mind had frozen at the casual way Peter had proclaimed his love. Ok, he hadn't exactly proclaimed it; he had presented it as an obvious fact. And he hadn't said it was anything more than a father-son thing. Peter still wasn't convinced that their bromance should turn into a romance.

But the fact that Peter loved him at all--as a son, as a brother, or as a romantic partner--floored Neal.

"Caffrey, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," Neal answered, lying out of habit.

Peter gave him a look that made it clear he wasn't fooled. Then he shook his head, sighing. "Never mind--we can talk about it later. We're almost to the store."

~oOo~

Peter couldn't believe it. He'd just spent five hours shopping with Neal and Elizabeth. It took Caffrey that long to pick out the paint he wanted for his bedroom. Then Peter had spent another two hours helping to clear out the room. He should have been allowed to relax after that, but instead El was explaining the new schedule she'd drawn up for him.

"Neal has you Sunday, Monday and Tuesday nights," she explained. "I have you Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights--except once a month, when Neal can have a Saturday."

He stared at the schedule, which El had just laid on the counter in front of him.

"El, I'm not sleeping with the kid yet. And I'm not sure I'm going to."

She snorted. "Oh, honey, it's just a matter of time. You just have to stop thinking of him as a child. Now I know you want to relax, but shouldn't you help him put the primer coat on?"

"I'll go down in a minute. El, the schedule puts me with Neal this Saturday. That's tonight!"

"Of course," she said as she hugged him from behind. "Even if you don't ravish him, you two need a night to talk things over." She paused to kiss the top of his head. "Just try this," she pleaded. "Give the new schedule a week and see how things go."

~oOo~

Neal noticed his hand shaking as he poured wine for Peter and himself. Damn it! Why was he so nervous?

So far, the evening had gone perfectly. Elizabeth was spending the night out on the town with a couple of girlfriends in order to give her two boys some space. (That's how she explained it, at any event.) Neal and Peter had opted to stay in, devoting more time to the Xbox.

That had proved a wise move. As long as they were arguing about story-line options in _Dragon Age _and fighting over the controller, Peter was relaxed. Neal could lean up against him, or sit on the floor with one arm on his lap or even put his head on his lap. But now that the game was away . . .

Neal sighed. Things couldn't be more awkward.

Nonetheless, he painted a smooth smile on his face as he crossed over to the couch, wine in hand. He handed Peter a glass as he sat next to the agent.

"Cheers," Peter said, raising the glass.

Neal rolled his eyes. "That's it? Just cheers? You can't think of anything more romantic?"

Peter gave him a slight grin. "Elizabeth didn't warn you?"

Neal grinned back and suddenly the tension between them evaporated. This was Peter, after all--he didn't need to be nervous.

Peter set his glass down and nodded at him. "Com'ere," he said.

Neal followed suit with his glass and headed straight into Peter's arms. He closed his eyes as he felt Peter's lips on his--and then he opened his mouth to the agent's probing.

It was a long while before they broke apart. Peter ran his fingers through Neal's hair and then framed Neal's face with his hands.

"You don't have to do this," Peter said.

Neal flashed him an exasperated smile as he shook his head. "This isn't coercion, Peter. I know you're not going to send me back to prison if I don't sleep with you."

Peter took his hands off Neal's face. "Right. But I want you to understand something else, Neal. The fact that you're sleeping with me won't stop me from putting you back in prison if you deserve it. You take one step out of line--"

Neal cut him off with a kiss. "I know. And you know how much leverage you're giving me. I could blackmail you if you tried to put me back inside. I could claim that you were coercing me."

"You could. And I'd lose my job--at least."

Neal gave him an inviting look. "We could end up sharing a prison cell."

Peter laughed. "That would be interesting. But I know you, Neal. I don't trust you not to run if Kate crooks her finger at you--but I do trust you not to blackmail me."

"Good--because I'd never blackmail you. And I won't run, Peter. Even if Kate--"

But Peter put a finger over his mouth. "Stop. I don't want you to promise me anything about Kate yet." He paused, giving Neal a measuring look. "When you tell me it's over between you and Kate, it can't be just an impulsive gesture."

Something seemed to be stuck in Neal's throat, so he swallowed. Then he nodded.

"Ok," Peter said. "There's one more thing, Neal. I--I don't want you to think you owe me this."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Owe you?"

"Right. I don't want you sleeping with me as a way of repaying me for getting you out of prison, or for the money I'm spending on you now . . ." He let his voice trail off.

Neal sighed. "Oh, Peter," he said in a voice of mock disbelief. Then he shifted so he could snuggle against the agent. Peter obliged him by wrapping his arms around him.

"I know I don't have to sleep with you to repay you," Neal continued, resting his head on Peter's chest. "You own me, remember? It's your job to take care of me."

"Oh yeah? So I have a responsibility to let you into my home and spend my hard-earned money on you?"

Neal nodded. "You do. And you really dropped the ball when you left me in that roach motel."

Peter snorted. "This is what gets you into trouble, Neal. You've got one hell of a sense of entitlement."

"Hmmmm," Neal said, snuggling closer. "You should spank it out of me."

"I might try--but right now I'd rather bring you to bed."

Neal glanced up at him. "Rewarding bad behavior? You're setting a dangerous precedent, Peter."

"It's more like rewarding a bad mindset," the agent clarified. "Now let's get upstairs and see some bad behavior."

__

One more chapter to go . . .


	7. Chapter 7

****

Changing Teams: Epilogue

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Peter woke up in the guestroom bed with his arms full of Neal Caffrey. A warm, naked Neal Caffrey who was snuggled against him. Peter smiled and kissed the top of the boy's head.

No, not boy. Neal was a grown man. He was in his thirties, for God's sake. But even after last night, it was hard not to think of him as a kid. And it was Neal's own fault. Peter thought back to Neal's days as a conman. His forgeries and scams, however brilliant, had really just been the work of a selfish brat showing off.

Peter shook his head as he ran his fingers through Neal's hair. It was hard to reconcile the sweet, generous--even heroic--side of the kid with the side that was so self-absorbed he had scarcely noticed the pain and suffering of his marks. Some of those marks had faced devastating financial losses. Why hadn't Neal cared?

But it had never been about the marks. Peter was pretty sure Neal hadn't set out to ruin anyone's life. To him, it had all been a game. Conning and forging gave him a chance to test his wits both against his marks and against the FBI. And it won him attention. Neal craved attention--he could never get enough of it.

Well, now he was caught and he had all the attention he could want--both from Peter and from Peter's division of the FBI. And it was damn hard to grudge him that.

Peter pulled Neal even closer and sighed. Four years in prison, when all the kid needed was someone to pay him some mind and set firm boundaries for him. Not that he didn't deserve the sentence, but still . . .

Neal yawned himself awake just then and glanced up at Peter. "'Morning, partner," he mumbled with a smile.

Peter grinned at his mussed-up look and kissed the top of his head again. "Morning."

Neal took a minute to stretch and then settled down facing him. "You're not lying there thinking last night was a mistake, are you?"

"Oh, I know it was a mistake," Peter informed him. "Sleeping with you is wrong on so many levels that I don't know where to start."

Neal didn't look surprised--but he didn't look abashed either. "Are you sorry it happened?"

"No."

"So . . . you're going to keep making this mistake?"

"Every Sunday, Monday and Tuesday night, according to El."

Neal grinned. "And one Saturday night a month."

"And one Saturday night a month. But there's a condition."

"Something tells me there are lots of conditions."

"Probably," Peter owned, "but I'm only worried about one right now." He paused, considering his words. "Neal, I'm not willing to share you. I know it's not fair, because I have both you and Elizabeth--"

"But I have to be monogamous. Yeah, Elizabeth warned me about that--but I would've figured it out on my own." He paused to shrug. "I don't mind.. Not everything has to be fair. I mean, come on, man. You own me. You get to call the shots."

"You sure about this? You have to choose between me and chasing after Kate."

"That choice has been in front of me the whole time--it has nothing to do with us sleeping together. And I've already chosen you, but you won't hear it."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Because you can't just decide this on impulse."

"Peter, I still care for Kate and I have to do what I can to make sure she's safe. But I--look, I won't break my probation. I won't run away from you, ok? And--and as much as I love her--what we had is over."

He paused again, this time to reach out and stroke Peter's hair. "You're my lover now, Agent Burke. I'm not going anywhere. And even if--well, even if this whole, ah, polygamy thing doesn't work out for us, I'm still staying around."

Peter stared at him for a moment and then nodded, satisfied. "Good," he said. "Because whether or not we stay lovers, I still own you."

That must have been the right response, because the kid smiled and seemed to relax. No--not kid, Peter reminded himself. This was going to turn into his mantra: Neal is an adult, not a child. Neal is an adult, not a child.

Neal, meanwhile, nestled against him again. "I have a condition too," he announced.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Mozzie has to be welcome here. I want him to be able to visit me, have dinner with us, hang out--you know, whatever."

Peter stared up at the ceiling. "Just what I need. Another conman in the house."

"Peter--"

"Ok. But he can't move in, Neal. It's not going to be like June's place, with him sleeping on the couch all the time."

"I'll still have June's place for now. And I'm hoping she'll let Moz have those rooms if I decide to give them up, remember? But I still want him to be able to crash here on occasion."

"Only in the basement with you," Peter warned. "And not on a Sunday, Monday or Tuesday night. Or one Saturday night a month."

Neal smiled up at him, contented. "Deal."

Peter sighed. "You're going to tell him everything, aren't you?"

"Yeah--but we can trust him. Hell, he'll think better of you for starting up a clandestine affair with me."

"I thought he was jealous of, ah--?"

"My feelings for you? And the fact that I've changed teams and given up a life of crime?"

"Yeah."

Neal pushed himself up for a moment to brush Peter's lips with his own.

"He'll be jealous. But if I'm happy, he'll be happy for me."

"Because his world revolves around you."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't everyone's?"

Peter laughed and pulled him closer, knowing there was no point in arguing. He'd just turned his own life upside down for this convict--and right now, it didn't feel like a mistake at all.

~The End~


End file.
